Lrd Vldmrt's Crayon Rosary
by feverfaker
Summary: Owing to a rather stupid mistake by most of the world, the Dark Lord and The Boy Who Scored wind up in the same room as each other for therapy. Lucius Malfoy battles Lucky Charms, while Hermione finds herself baffled by Ron's lack of self-consciousness.


Tom Marvolo Riddle, more commonly known as Lord Voldemort, cackled maniacally, planning the downfall of Harry Potter. "He may have escaped me through sheer, dumb luck, but this time, that brat won't escape. We all know I am the greatest wizard ever. The boy has escaped me one too many times. How he cowers behind those greater than him! Luck has been on his side- but this time he is not going to escape. What power could he have against the greatest wizard in the world? Love? Skill will prevail!"

"On a list of the greats, you rank as one thousand eighty-five," a sly voice piped up.

"Keep your opinions to yourself, or face my wrath," Voldemort muttered, waving in the general direction of his mirror. Whispering an incantation, he thrust his arms out for good measure. The mirror began to crack.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" it exclaimed nervously, in a shrill voice. "I'm there to provide comic relief, that can't hurt."

"True," Voldemort responded. Grumbling, he righted the mirror and pulled a crumpled newspaper out of his robes. It was rather worn due to being lying between Voldemort and a broomstick for several hours.

"Are you in need of a good cleansing about your mortal enemy? Does this fiend go by the name of Harry Potter? Send an owl down to Number 17, Friday Street. Dark Lords get a discount." Voldemort read out loud, already beginning to cheer up. _Bargains make the world go around,_ he thought, stroking his nonexistent goatee.

"I've been meaning to grow one of beards that make all the evil-doers look fancy," the Dark Lord murmured distractedly, before wandering back on over to the track in which his train of thought had been following. "Bargains… love 'em."

"Please, 'gini-wini, come to Daddy-kins!" Voldemort called out. His voice had less of the gravel normally found in gardens, and his lips curled in what seemed to be the authoress' second cousin's great uncle's grandmother's smile. The authoress hoped he hadn't stolen it, because she had paid for the dental insurance—for the fifth time. Voldemort continued his searching. "Nagini, come here. I've got an appointment soon." Voldemort was already plotting the downfall of Harry Potter. _Wonder who my counselor will be,_ he mused. _Let's hope he's not bald. I have to blast the last hairless guy for imitating me. There's a copyright on this image, you know._

"Sorry, Volders," the snake hissed, slithering into the room. "I can't talk now. Taylor's about to have a nervous breakdown," she grinned—if her lipless grimace could pass for a smile—gesturing at the TV, a Muggle contraption she had become addicted to.

"Nagini, after hours of negotiation we agreed on a half hour of The Bold and the Beautiful. You've already used that time up! Don't tempt my wrath!"

"But Voldy, how can I abandon Taylor in her time of need?" Nagini whined angrily. "I need to be there for her. How would you feel if I had ignored you the last time Harry Potter destroyed you? I could've, you know. Don't you understand what she's going through?" Nagini gave an award winning smile that could pierce the skin of an abnormal sized giant wearing polka dotted…er—win your heart.

"I said no, and that's final," Voldemort growled threateningly, turning away, while Nagini sulked on the couch. As he turned to Apparate, Nagini tried once more.

"Please, Voldykins?" Voldemort turned, and saw that adorable reptilian face, those gorgeous decaying teeth. _My snake could be a model,_ he reflected.

"All right, but not more than an hour," he relented. "Try to watch the… house." Voldemort took a quick glance around his evil lair, which was more like a clutter of rubble with a few chairs piled about. He sighed. Pulling out a bottle of perfume, Eau de Basilisk, he squirted it around his presence, breathing in the rancid smell cheerfully. "That should do it," he muttered. Then waving his wand theatrically, Voldemort turned. The last thing the Dark Lord saw before disappearing was Nagini's wide smile. "Don't slime up the couch!" he cried nervously, concerned for the already decaying leather.


End file.
